


Lady at Arms

by booabug (allthisink)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Going medieval on your ass, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7070008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthisink/pseuds/booabug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teen rating for profanity (the f-bomb). Another fic <a href="http://faithful-grigori.tumblr.com/post/145307273182/melancholicmarionette-as-much-as-i-love-marichat">inspired by a Tumblr post</a>.</p><p>When Chat Noir shows up unexpectedly on Marinette's terrace, her first instinct isn't to greet whatever may be on her roof warmly. Her first instinct is, "Who the hell is on my roof." Chat's first instinct is to question why ordinary girl Marinette Dupain-Cheng has a literal mace and why is it being swung at him. <a href="http://shewhoridesonrainbows.tumblr.com/post/145327369794/">NOW WITH ART? AAAAA</a><a></a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Lady at Arms

**Author's Note:**

> I really should be working on my multi-chapter fic but things like this come up and I just- I _can't help it._
> 
> [Crossposted to my Tumblr](http://booabug.tumblr.com/post/145321309103/faithful-grigori-melancholicmarionette-as).

It was a solo patrol night for Chat Noir. Ladybug was on call but too busy to join. He understood, his own scheduling meant he had asked the same of her far more often. In his haste to suit up and get out of the house, he had neglected to eat his already meagre, controlled diet meal which did not take into account his extra extra-curricular activity. So, no surprise when his stomach grumbled.

He probably could have ducked into a five star restaurant and be welcomed with open arms for the publicity, dishes on the house, but he had someplace else in mind. The place where Adrien was always welcome. The home of his friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

It was only mid-leap, in irreversible trajectory in the air, that he realized he was probably fucking up. Adrien was always welcome. Chat Noir was an acquaintance, at best.

He landed softly, but his ears picked up the rolling of computer chair casters and he knew he had, indeed, fucked up. It wasn't until the skylight swung open with a bang and Marinette leapt out into the rooftop with surprising agility, wielding an honest to god flanged mace, and swung it at his chest, stopping just before impact, that Chat realized _how badly_ he had fucked up.

Naturally, his response was, "AAAAAAAAAAAHH WHAT THE HELL?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH," she articulated at the same time. "WHAT THE HELL ARE _YOU_ DOING HERE?"

"WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE A MACE?"

"I THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE A RAT OR A PREDATOR OR SOMETHING!"  
  
"WHY WOULD YOU BRING A MACE TO A RAT FIGHT?!"  
  
"I DON'T KNOW! IT COULD BE RABID! IT WAS THE CLOSEST THING AT HAND!"

"WHY WOULD A MACE BE THE CLOSEST THING AT HAND?!"

"I- IT'S A LONG STORY? I DON'T KNOW, CHAT-" she began a loud, floundering explanation.

The weapon, designed to _maim through heavy plate,_ looked easily over a kilo heavy and she was white knuckling it with a panicked look in her eyes that said she would either bolt or swing again to brain him with extreme force. A part of him knew he had been thrown across the city by akuma before with no ill effects. Most of him was focused on the fact that he was in imminent danger of a weapon designed to _maim through heavy plate._ And it was still inches from his side.

Marinette gathered her wits (mostly). "Wait a minute, this is my property. I ask the questions."

Chat gulped. He thought her tone of voice leaned towards braining him with a _fucking flanged mace._   "Fair enough."

"Again," she said tensely. "What are you doing here?"

Chat stroked his belt tail, ears flat against his head, and squeaked out in a voice higher and smaller than he ever thought he was capable of, "I just wanted croissants and cookies."

He stared at the girl armed with _a fucking mace._ She stared back. Then, with a "Snrk," she began laughing.

Laughing back, nervously at first, but genuinely once she let the mace's heavy head drop to her side, the ridiculousness of the entire situation hit him all at once.

"Come on inside. They're not fresh, but you're welcome to as many as you want. I was getting a little hungry too, actually. Plus it's easier to explain this," she waved the mace, "If I show you."

She casually hopped down her skylight again. Chat followed with a little more trepidation. Show him? Did she have a medieval armory down there? No, no, this was Marinette. Just a normal girl with a normal life. He landed on her bed and looked around. Okay, he didn't see any other weapons, just her waiting for him at the top of her stairs leading to the floor of her room. He followed her down. Then something caught his eye and he jumped back, tail sticking straight out. A hiss even escaped his throat.

"WHY DO YOU HAVE AN ARMING SWORD?"

The long, straight, double edged blade glinted in her room's light, unsheathed and casually laying across her desk like it wasn't a big deal. The blunt sport fencing épée he had at home was no big deal. A _fucking arming sword_ was a pretty big deal. Marinette rolled her eyes and sighed. All things considered, Chat thought he had a proper response and hers was a little bit- not. She gestured to her dress form, decked out in steel plate and a surcoat in the works. A heavy leather belt hung nearby. She continued down and towards the sword and armour.

"Princess..." he said, heart pounding as he padded behind her. "That does not explain anything, nor does it make me feel any safer."

"Mme. D'Argencourt is a lot friendlier than her brother, so she's showing up in costume at events to make people feel better about the family name. She's really thankful to you and Ladybug for saving M. D'Argencourt, so she wanted to pay homage too, and heard from him- he's my P.E. teacher- that she might want to commission me. She thought your colour scheme, er.... Might be a bit too reminiscent of Darkblade, so," she waved her mace to the surcoat. It was in red, with large black dots. "The mace is her sidearm, she thought I should have everything to know how it'd all pull together. As for the sword, she's always admired Jeanne D'Arc over her ancestor."

"Ahhh," Chat said as he leaned over to take a closer look. "Right, I see. It's a nice replica, and five crosses like they say hers had."

"Yup, I just wanted to get the shape of them down in my sketchpad," Marinette explained, swinging the mace around as she spoke ani- _mace_ -dly. Puns help him, he really needed comfort right now. "Mme. D'Argencourt wanted the city crest on the surcoat too, so why not work in a nod to her personal hero while I'm at it?"

"That's a good idea. Well, if you're done, I'll just... put this in it's sheath."  
  
"Right. That's probably for the best, I can be a little clumsy."  
  
A little? Well, Chat Noir wouldn't, but Adrien knew that was an understatement. "I think I'll take the mace too, put these down while you grab something for us to eat, if you please?"  
  
"Oh yeah! I'll get on that."

 

* * *

 

The next day, Adrien swore he could feel Marinette's eyes on the back of his head. He couldn't help feeling a little (okay, very) nervous. He hoped he had put on enough anti-perspirant to not sweat through his shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> THERE IS NOW BEAUTIFUL ART FOR THIS AND IM CREY??? [GO LOOK AT IT, LET IT GRACE YOUR EYES, LIKE AND REBLOG IT.](http://shewhoridesonrainbows.tumblr.com/post/145327369794/inspired-by-this-fic-which-was-inspired-by-this)


End file.
